


Thin Walls

by LittleIdazle



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-20
Updated: 2018-04-17
Packaged: 2019-03-07 00:41:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13423059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleIdazle/pseuds/LittleIdazle
Summary: Before her second year of college, Marinette moves into her own apartment. It's small, dingy, and undoubtedly cheap; perfect for a broke college student. But what was meant to be a cozy living space takes an unexpected turn when she discovers she can hear everything her next door neighbor says through the wall. She's wracked with guilt and a desire to know the hurting boy on the other side, but what can she do when she's merely a stranger listening through thin walls?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I desperately hope it isn't too obvious that I've never been to college or had my own apartment.

Marinette found that scholarships, as amazing as they were, rarely kept anyone from the “broke college student” title. Perhaps it was because she was truly on her own and she was figuring everything out for the first time. She was learning how to budget and pay bills, hold herself back from buying that quality fabric she'd normally succumb to. It was a terrifying first for her, how quickly daily necessities drained her pay check. 

Though her family had never been particularly wealthy, the bakery was successful enough for a comfortable life. College, a part time job, and adjusting to an independent life, on the other hand, well, Marinette was currently unpacking her luggage into what had to be the smallest, dingiest apartment she had ever seen. Let alone considered living in.

She stayed at home for her first semester of college, mostly because her parents insisted on it so she could focus on school without all the extra responsibilities, and she appreciated that. College was much different from Lycee and it took her a while to adjust. She couldn't imagine having to figure everything else out along with it.

Though it was small and the place definitely lived up to the image the low rent gave it, Marinette could see it becoming hers. Her room wouldn't be an issue to make more homely. All she had to do was get her bed in and set up some fairly lights and she'd be happy. Her pastel pink couch would fit perfectly in the living room with a small coffee table in front of it and enough space to walk around without feeling cramped. She could put up cute curtains on the windows and put some potted plants under it. It'd be hard to make the time to take care of them, but if she managed to do it through lycee, helping in the bakery, and fighting akuma 24/7, she would be able to do it then, too.

Her parents and a couple of friends would be there in a few of hours to help move furniture in, so for the time being, she busied herself with unpacking the small things. Moving towels and personal hygiene items into the bathroom and dishes in the cabinets, hanging clothes up in the closet. It didn't take a lot of time and before she knew it, she was sitting against the wall and pulling out her sketch book. It was then that Marinette noticed just how thin the walls were.

“I-it's not too bad.” she heard from the other side, and from the sound of his voice, he wasn't very convinced of his own words.

“For a normal person, sure.” another person chimed in, his voice familiar, “For you? It's pretty bad, man.”

“Well, I like it!” the first person exclaimed in forced enthusiasm, “It's cozy.”

“Whatever you want to call small, dude.”

“You really have no faith in me, do you?”

“You grew up in the lap of luxury. You came from maids and personal assistants and a literal library in your room to 'cozy'.”

“Wow, way to be supportive, best friend.”

His friend laughed, “You know it's the truth.”

“But you don't have to rub it in my privileged face!”

“Hey, you cut yourself off from your father, you can't call yourself privileged anymore. You're down with the rest of us broke students.”

“So you'll stop calling me a rich pretty boy?”

“Nope! You'll always be a rich pretty boy to me.”

“You suck, you know that?”

More laughter came through the wall and Marinette chuckled at the exchange, going back to her sketching and tuning them out. She hoped she'd be able to meet him. He didn't seem to be such a bad guy, and a friend right next door sounded nice.

She could imagine going back and forth from each others apartment, calling on the phone when they were too lazy to go next door, laughing and teasing each other about it, and walking out of the building together. Things she always imagined doing with Alya before those fantasies were crush by her friend's decision to go to a college a long distance away.

Either away, she looked forward to having that kind of relationship with someone. To hopefully getting to know and having that relationship with her neighbor.

As it turned out, she got to know him much more than she initially thought, and not in the way one would think.

It was after she was settled in and preparing to start her next semester of college. She was sitting on her bed, sketching with her fairy lights setting a warm feeling around her. She was in her own little world as she imagined the pair of shoes she was drawing, easily seeing them right in front of her and crafted with the material she had set aside for it. They were a deep red, a bold color in contrast of her usual light pink. She was on her own and she needed a little courage in the color of her alter ego. The warm feeling in the room and her concentration quickly vanished, however, when she heard a string of words she knew she wasn't meant to hear.

“So uh, hey, God.” he started, “Maman always believed you existed. I'm not sure if you do, but whether you're an imaginary being or not, I need someone to talk to.”

Marinette tried to ignore his voice and focus on the pair of shoes she was in the process of creating, but as his voice got quieter, her ears strained to hear and her sketching slowed. His voice was muffled, but the words were clear. He was close, and she could practically feel the need in his voice

“I don't. . . I don't know if this is the right thing to do. I thought if I moved away and had as little contact with my father as possible, then maybe things would be better. I'd be free and able to do the things he never let me. I mean, I am free. I can do things he never let me. I can go out whenever I want and talk to whoever I please, but. . . it doesn't feel right. I feel guilty, like I'm doing something wrong.”

His voice was beginning to crack, and it made her heart hurt.

“What am I doing wrong? What am I doing that is so terrible? Is it a sin to do something for myself? Do I have to be tied to him and sacrifice my well-being to make him happy? I don't understand why I'm feeling like this. Are you punishing me for rebelling against him just this once?”

Setting her notebook down, Marinette put her hand against the wall. She knew it did nothing, he didn't know she was there. He didn't know she listening and that she was wanting to help him somehow. She wanted to reach out to him, but she was only a stranger listening to his prayer from the other side of the wall.

He continued, “I've always been good. I've always listened and did what he told me. Isn't that what the bible says? Honor your father and mother? When I wanted to go to public school and he told me never to ask again, I didn't ask again. When he pushed more photo shoots and lessons and expectations on me, I didn't complain once. I may not have been the perfect son, but I got pretty close for a father that's nowhere near perfect. He never did anything for me, and yet I'm sitting here feeling like I'm not enough? I just-” his voice hitched, “I wish Maman was here to make it better, but she's gone, God, and now I feel like the only person I have to talk to is someone I'm not even sure is real. If you are, please listen. Please help me.”

It got silent after that. Marinette assumed he either left the room or fell asleep, and as soon as he did, guilt stabbed her in the chest. She could have left the room, ignored his questions and pleas. She could have given him privacy, but she listened in. She eavesdropped on a stranger in his most vulnerable state. A burden shared was a burdened halved, and it weighed heavy on her heart.

Her mind begged to know more about her hurting neighbor and heart desired to ease his pain, and with such thin walls, that was only the beginning.


	2. Chapter 2

After accidentally hearing that heartfelt prayer from her neighbor, Marinette was conflicted between wanting to meet him and avoid him. She found herself listening closely to the other side to hear if he was home and then deciding on whether she wanted to leave or not. If there was noise, she'd decide to leave as soon as possible. If it was quiet, she'd assume he wasn't home and leave as quietly as she could to not run into him.

She didn't know what had gotten into her. She didn't know the guy, and even if she did happen to see him, he would never know she heard him. She was the only one who knew, but somehow, that seemed worse.

Marinette got over her stubborn desire to not be found out and she soon wanted to run into him. Maybe not to meet him. Just to see him. To see who it was with so much heartbreak and pain, so much anguish that he felt he had to turn to a religion he wasn't a part of.

Curiosity killed the cat, and though her curiosity drove her to seeking him out, she wasn't sure if satisfaction would bring her back.

As it turned out, she didn't have to avoid him to begin with. Perhaps he left before she even woke up and got home before she did, but she never once saw him leave or enter his apartment. Their schedules never collided. Marinette wasn't sure if she was relieved or disappointed.

It was likely that she'd never meet him, but the night she finally gave up, it was certain that she'd hear him again.

This time, she was trying to sleep. She hadn't been in bed for ten minutes before she heard that familiar voice she heard those few nights ago.

“No, no. I'm fine, Nathalie.” she heard him say. She didn't hear another voice, so he was probably talking on the phone. “It's a smaller than I'm used to, but that's it. Yes, I like it here.”

She tried to tune him out, but it was as if his voice was calling out to her. She knew it was her imagination. He hadn't seen or heard her. He wasn't aware of how terribly thin the walls were. It was impossible for him to be speaking so closely in hopes of her hearing. She figured she was unconsciously trying to justify her actions.

“No, I'm not going back. That shouldn't surprise you. You know how much I hated that house. I prefer this cramped apartment over that spacious place I used to call home. But uh. . .”

She could hear the uncertainty slip back into his voice. The fear. And as she heard it, she squeezed her eyes shut and reached for the pillow to cover her ears, but she didn't. She didn't stop herself from hearing his next words. Something she knew would increase her guilt later.

“Has father asked about me?”

The infamous father. The one, she guessed, who prompted him to run away from home and search for a life of his own, but the one he couldn't get out of his mind. A long pause followed his question, and Marinette thought maybe he went to the other side of the room, but his voice permeated her ears once more.

“Oh.” he said, downcast. Disappointed. Marinette could guess how Nathalie responded, and she knew it wasn't what he wanted.

She found herself getting upset. She never actually met him herself, but he seemed so tenderhearted. So hopeful and yet so let down all at once. She then concluded that he didn't deserve it. Whoever he was, whatever he was going through, he didn't deserve any of it.

“Don't be sorry.” he said, his voice much quieter. “I- I don't even care. It doesn't matter anymore. Yeah, I'll talk to you later, Nathalie. Remember to take a break every once in a while, okay? I know how much of a slave worker my father can be.”

He let out a deep sigh, and it held much more exhaustion than he should have been feeling. He was young, she gathered that much. He was young and trying to find his place in the world on his own, and she knew how tiring that was, but he sounded like someone who was trying to start fresh while simultaneously dragging in everything he wanted to leave behind. Like he held a lifetime of hurt.

Stopping to think, Marinette was pretty sure that was exactly it. Everything he was attempting to leave behind was following him no matter how he tried to shake it all off. He had a lot of pain in his past, and a new place to live wasn't going to get rid of it. His heart was damaged and it was gonna take more than time to heal.

Right before she was able to drift off to sleep, she heard him speak once more. It was a bitter remark. Bitter and tired, like he was beating himself up for letting himself dream.

“Of course he didn't.” he muttered. “What did I expect?”


	3. Chapter 3

Adrien decided that a new place to live, as refreshing as it was, didn't keep the pain away. He had his own set of rules now that he lived on his own. His own guidelines and schedules to follow, something that didn't make him dread everyday life. 

His day began with a morning run. No timers, no strict regimes, no trainer fussing at him for putting on a pound. Just him and the fresh air; how he liked it. It didn't matter how long he ran, so long as he made it to work on time. It was simple things like that. Pacing himself and shoving away every instinct and habit his father had instilled in him. Though it was difficult at first, he learned how to manage his own time. 

He could do whatever he wanted. He left the house as often as he could and hung out with his friends as much as he pleased. His father couldn't stop him anymore, and it felt exhilarating at first. He felt free. He loved being able to come home and not hear a word about his friends being a bad influence or that he was spending too much time out. He felt alive and like a human again. At first. 

After the excitement settled and he got used to the sight of his small apartment, the hurt came back to the surface. The loss of his mother was still a constant ache in his chest, the neglect of his father was still lumps of coal in the pit of his belly, and when he came home after a long day of, as he liked to call it, “rule breaking”, the ceiling was still dark and his room was still quiet. 

He was still lonely. He didn't know why. He had friends, he felt happy a lot of the time, he lived life to the fullest. Or. . . at least as full as he could live. Half-full, he decided, but wasn't that still good? Wasn't that the term of optimism? Surely it was better than when all of his time was spent trying to please his cold, unapproving father.

Adrien had expressed all this to Nino. He tried his best to express it properly, but when he looked back up into his friends eyes, he could see confliction. He wanted to help him, he could tell, but he didn't know how to. Adrien couldn't blame him. He didn't know how to help himself either. Nino didn't say anything, he just went over to him and wrapped him in the biggest hug he could manage. 

The support and encouragement of his best friend was more than he could ask for, and it did make him feel better, but when he got back home, he was exhausted. Perhaps he was tired from being out all day, he tried to convince himself. He nodded his head and thought, “Yeah, that's it. It's been a long, exciting day. That's why I'm tired.”

Plagg's pitying looks said otherwise. The kwami often tried to talk to him about it, insisting that moving away from home wasn't going to fix things. He stressed the topic time and time again, up until Adrien finally snapped and said that he didn't run away from home. The mansion was never his home and he refused to go back.

“I'm not telling you to go back,” Plagg had told him, looking at him with an unreadable look in his eyes. “I'm glad you left that place, I really am, but you're fooling yourself if you think that's all it'll take to feel better.” That was the last thing he said on the subject, and even though it was never mentioned again, the short conversation kept spiraling through in his head.

Throwing his bag across the room, Adrien sighed and plopped into bed. He thought maybe living alone just wasn't for him. The apartment felt no warmer than the mansion did when he had no one to share it with. He would've asked if he and Nino could be roommates, but he had just moved in with his girlfriend. That was a no go.

The more Adrien desired to rid himself of the emptiness accumulating in his heart, the more frustrated he became. He thought that perhaps therapy would help, but for the first time in his life, he didn't have the money. He couldn't afford it. Thinking back, that had never been an issue. Despite his father's cold shoulder and harsh parenting, Gabriel always provided for him. He never missed a doctor's appointment of any sort, he always had food even though he had to watch his calorie intake, and his roomed had been decked out with everything he could ever want. Then he thought that maybe it was all a bad decision. Leaving the mansion and security of his father didn't seem to do anything, but the moment the thought went through his mind, he willed it away. Never again would he return to that place. Never again would he subject himself to the rejection of his father.

And then it hit him. His father wouldn't accept him back. He didn't just run away from home. He didn't decide to just up and leave out of nowhere. He left because he when he finally built up the courage to talk his father about everything that had been bothering him, it turned into a full-blown argument. At the end of it, his father told him to be a man and suck it up or leave. So he chose the latter. He left and he didn't once look back. Until now, and he hated himself for it.

Just when Adrien decided to stop thinking about it and go to sleep, he heard a voice. It was quiet and sweet, and it was singing a melody. At first he thought it was an angel, that maybe his mother was right when she told him of angels and unconditional love, but then he heard a crash and a giggle following.

It was coming from the other side of the wall. The singing continued and his dreadful thoughts went silent. He moved himself closer to the wall and listened for the soft singing. It took him a while, but he recognized it as one of Jagged Stone's older songs. It was a softer one. One of Adrien's favorites, and as he got lost in the sound of her voice, he began to sing along with her. Quietly, so she wouldn't hear.

Quietly, like the quiet of his mind. Like the silent ringing in the room that wasn't as taunting as it was before. Like his ears tuning out and his eyes falling closed. Quietly, until the girl on the other side of the wall lulled him to sleep.

Adrien would would later wake up in the middle of the night just for a moment, and he would wonder who that girl was, but for the time being, he got his much needed rest.


	4. Chapter 4

Adrien was a little ashamed to admit he hadn't heard the singing before. When he started paying attention, he found that the girl on the other side of the wall sang often. Sometimes it was soft and melodic, and other times she was boisterous. She'd sing her lungs out and put her soul into every word. He loved the sound of her cheerful singing, but when it was late at night and she became dulcet, her voice gently touched his heart. Some days he found himself pressing his ear to the wall when her singing was particularly soft, and it didn't take him long to feel guilty about eavesdropping.

It was just that once he noticed it, he started unconsciously listening for her voice. He started wanting to hear it all the time. In the dead of night when sleep did not desire him and the girl was still awake, she somehow became his sanctuary. It was silly, but sometimes he pretended that she was singing him to sleep. He would pull the covers close to his face and imagine she was hovering over him and urging him to sleep.

One night, Adrien asked Plagg if angels existed. Plagg said that if they did, their voices would be much prettier. Adrien rolled his eyes at the grouchy kwami. He didn't care about the occasional crack in her voice or the attempts of singing notes higher than what she was capable of. He loved her voice and that's all that mattered to him. So maybe she wasn't an angel. That was okay with him. It just meant that if he ever wanted to meet her, she'd be there.

He tried not to purposely listen when she wasn't singing, which wasn't too hard since he could only hear her when he was close to the wall. That night, however, while he was trying to fall asleep, he heard her talking on the phone. She didn't say anything particularly exciting. It wasn't like in books and TV shows when a character overheard another character speak in their darkest moments; nothing like that. It was small talk and light banter, a lot of giggling and the occasional snort.

Then the conversation took a nostalgic turn. She talked of high school and how she missed everyone, how even though she loved the college she was going to, she wouldn't get much time for her friends once the semester started. She continued to talk about the things she remembered from school. She reminisced on the time she was confessed to by a boy in her class and how flustered it made her. She admitted to being a bit regretful of not giving him a chance, but she was glad he was happy with his current girlfriend, and she only wished for that same happiness with a special someone.

That was the first time he properly heard her voice. The reminiscing made him envious, but even more than that, it made him curious about the girl. She spoke with so much fervor and passion, so much excitement that he couldn't help but feel excited with her. He smiled when he heard her laugh and covered his mouth when he nearly laughed with her. He was only hearing one half of the conversation, but it wasn't the conversation itself he was interested in. It was the voice. The squealing, giggling, singing voice that made his apartment a little less lonely.

Hearing her speak and listening to her stories made him want to meet her. She sounded sweet and tender, like the kind of person who wouldn't judge him based on magazine covers and gossip articles. Someone who would look past his fame and get to know the person beneath the glamour. Perhaps that was hopeful thinking, but his mother always taught him that having hope was never a bad thing.

That's when Adrien remembered that even though he was still technically famous, all of that was behind him. He was a normal college student with an underpaying job and cheap apartment. He was just like everyone else, so if they met, she had no choice but to see the person rather than the image. That's all there was, and it made him a little too happy.

Plagg quietly huffed beside him, keeping his voice low enough to not be heard by her. “I don't see what's so interesting. It's just a girl talking on the phone. I could understand eavesdropping if it were something more scandalous, but this is boring.”

“I'm not trying to eavesdrop.” he defended weakly.

Plagg snickered. “Your guilty expression says otherwise.”

Adrien decided to ignore him and rolled over, facing the wall. He couldn't hear her voice anymore and figured she either went to the other side of the room or fell asleep. He hoped it was the latter. It was late, and she had a terrible habit of sleeping in (if her yelling, “I'm late!” nearly every morning was anything to go by). He found it a little endearing, if he was being honest.

Letting a smile slip on his face, Adrien placed his hand on the wall. “Goodnight, Singing Girl. Sweet dreams.”

-

For the first time in a while, Adrien didn't have to be up until 9 AM, but humans were creatures of habit and the many years of waking up at the crack of dawn was still ingrained in his mind. So when he opened his eyes that morning and glanced at the time, he had two hours to spare. At first he tried to go back to sleep, but he was wide awake and nothing was going to change that.

After taking a shower, Adrien decided to treat himself to some breakfast at a small place nearby. He had seen it when he first moved in and thought about going there several times, but the money or the time was never right. He had a little bit of both this time, so he was gonna take the chance while he had it.

He slipped on some clothes and made sure he had extra cheese in his bag. With Plagg satisfied, he was on his way, but before he made it towards the stairs, he found himself staring at the door to his neighbor's apartment. The girl who, unbeknownst to her, sang him to sleep nearly every night.

He wondered what would happen if he knocked on that door. What would she look like? What would she say? What would he say? 'Hi, I'm your creepy neighbor who listens to you sing. Wanna have breakfast with me?” 

He laughed to himself. He felt like he was a young teenager again swooning over Ladybug, always wondering who she was and what she would look like without the mask. Granted, he still didn't know, but his obsessive crush had calmed down after many years. He accepted the fact that he might never know.

As he started to walk, he imagined the day he would build up the courage to knock her apartment door and introduce himself. In a normal way. He hoped the day would come. He hoped his fears wouldn't get the best of him and he'd take the opportunity before it passed him by. They'd meet someday, and when they did, he was sure that it was going to be the most magical day ever.

Just as he was about to pass her door, it came swinging open and the person inside went rushing out. She stopped herself before hitting him, but the momentum pushed her forward and hurled her towards the ground. Luckily, she was just within reach and Adrien caught her before any harm was done.

“Ugh I'm so clumsy” she groaned to herself, and the moment the words left her lips, Adrien was struck with the familiar sound of her voice. Then he realized just where she had come from -who she was- and his mouth went dry.

Their eyes met and Adrien swore that Plagg had no idea what he was talking about. Angels had to be real, because he was holding one in his arms.


End file.
